Cute Boys Wear FootJoys
by Solo Ensemble
Summary: Ryan Howard has to close this sale or he's gone for good.


**Note – **This popped into my head and began to run out the statute of limitations for adverse possession. I evicted it and title remains quieted in my mind. I've GOT to stop talking like a lawyer, yeah? Perhaps after finals.

**Cute Boys Wear FootJoys**

Ryan Howard had never wanted to be a kept man.

He was one of those guys that had always been ambitious, ruthlessly so, and felt that he had something to prove out there. He was one of those guys that would bide his time, seek his advantage, and then pounce and ride it as far as it would take him. He was the last one to sit around and let life happen to him, let himself be kept by anything or anyone.

But who was he kidding? Kelly Kapoor totally owned him.

It was even worse now, after he'd gone to such great lengths to get her back. Christ, he'd even done one-handed pushups on the carpet. Granted, that had worked out pretty well because they were making out on her desk three minutes later.

Because of his grand displays of affection and his dogged desire to get her back, Kelly was even more out of control. It was the opposite of what had happened the first time they got together: instead of her pursuing him relentlessly, he'd done it this time around. And because of that, she knew that he wanted her and took even greater liberties than she had before.

Like showing up at his door.

In the morning.

At 7:00.

With a garment bag and a shopping bag.

Ryan rubbed his bleary eyes, hoping that he was just seeing things. "Kelly? What are you-"

"Oh, my God, Ryan," she chirped, shooing him away with her hand so that she could step inside. "It's, like, twenty-five degrees out and you still sleep in just your boxers? You totally need better pajamas. My mom would, like, flip out if she knew that you slept in just your boxers during winter."

Before her, he never would have believed that it was possible for a girl to put her mother and his boxers in the same sentence.

"Kelly-"

"I mean, not really, because I wouldn't tell her about your boxers because then she'd know that I've _seen_ you in your boxers, and I have her thinking that we only, like, go out to dinner and watch movies together, not that we're, like, sleeping together. If you think she'd flip out if she knew about your boxers, she'd _really_ flip out if she knew we were sleeping together. Seriously, Ryan. I swear. She totally would. So don't ever tell her I've seen you in just your boxers."

He sagged against the door and rubbed the stubble on his jaw and cheeks. It was too damn early for this. "Kel, please, I haven't even had my coffee – wait. Why do you have shopping bags?"

Oh, God. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

She didn't answer, just continued down the hall to his bedroom, and Ryan had no choice but to trot after her, wide awake now.

"Kelly, why do you have shopping bags with you?"

"Because I'm, like, only the best girlfriend in the world," she replied, setting the things down on his unmade bed as he came up behind her. "Hi, Ryan, most obvious answer ever."

Kelly clapped her hands together and turned around to face him. "Okay. So. Have you brushed your teeth?"

Self-consciously, he brought his hand up to his mouth. "No."

"Then I know not to kiss you until you have," she replied, tipping her head toward his bathroom. Ryan nodded, still confused, and turned around slowly when he felt her arms around his waist. "Oh, who cares? I can't not kiss you."

And then, of course, because she was Kelly, she was peppering his cheek with tiny kisses.

He felt the corner of his mouth curve up, and was even aware of his hands coming up to rest on her hips, but before he could process that and what it meant, his alarm clock interrupted him. Kelly untangled herself from his arms and walked over to turn it off.

"Go get ready, Ryan, what are you waiting for? You _cannot_ be late today."

He grumbled something under his breath and plodded across the hall to the bathroom. When he came out twenty minutes later, he was showered, wearing a towel, and freshly shaven. He could smell freshly brewed coffee – thank God for automatic timers – and was about to head over to get some when he noticed very suspicious behavior in his bedroom.

Frowning, he poked his head into the room to find Kelly rooting through his dresser drawers. She found what she needed and set a pair of clean socks down on the bed, and that was when he noticed that she'd set out his clothes for the day.

"Kelly…" He advanced slowly in the room, as if speed made any difference when dealing with a crazy person. "What did you do?"

She shot him one of her cute, bewildered little smiles. "Nothing. I picked out your clothes."

"I thought we agreed the last time we were seeing each other that we wouldn't do that," he said gently, slowly. She was certifiable, and he was running out of ways to cope.

"That was the last time we were together," she smirked, rolling her eyes, as if all the progress he'd made getting her to unlock her uncrazy side during that first fourteen-month stretch was gone and forgotten. And who was he kidding? She was right: Kelly Kapoor totally owned his ass.

And he would have started down the ambling road of depression at that thought, but then her lips were pressed sweetly against his, and the warmth of her bled through his bare skin, and her fingers were resting on the edge of his knotted towel, and suddenly it didn't matter that she'd picked out his clothes and put them on his bed like his mother used to when he was five.

Ryan wrapped his arms around her, hissing slightly when she ran her fingers through his damp hair. Kelly nipped his lower lip, and he liked the aggression that she hardly ever used to show before. They stood like that for a while, he in just his towel, she up on her toes to meet his lips, and finally, Kelly reluctantly pulled away.

"You're going to have to get dressed unless you want to be late."

Ryan looked down at the clothes on his bed. Undershirt, boxers, pants, suit jacket, and socks. "Um-"

And then he saw it.

He saw exactly what was wrong with her picks.

"Why am I wearing my khaki pants with my blue jacket? And – what is that? Is that…Kelly, is that one of your hair clips?!"

"It's a lapel pin," she scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if something that looked like nothing more than a hollow circle made out of rhinestones would _definitely_ belong on his sport coat instead of in her hair. "It's made out of silver. And you're wearing khaki pants with your jacket because it will look nice."

"I wear matching pants and matching jackets," he said slowly, as if he was explaining something to a child. "You have to match them, otherwise you look stupid."

Kelly rolled her eyes, unfazed by this. "Oh, Ryan, you're such a fashion dinosaur. No one has to match anymore."

"I do. I'm in sales. I have to look professional."

"You have to look nice and suited to the occasion," she corrected. "If you were going out golfing with a client to try to get him to buy paper, would you wear a suit? No, you'd wear shorts and a nice polo and your Footjoys."

"I told you, we don't call them Footjoys, we call them golf shoes-"

"And if you were at a bar with the client, you'd wear your jeans and your long-sleeve tee and your Vans, maybe a sport coat if it was a nicer bar or something. You don't have to always wear a matching suit, Ryan, you can mix it up."

"Kelly, I can't mess this up today, okay? I'm going to get out my pants and-"

"Ryan Bailey Howard, you are _wearing_ those clothes I got out for you."

She had her hands on her hips and her lower lip was jutting out in that particularly defiant way, but that still didn't stop him.

"Oh, no, I'm fucking not. I'm getting my blue pants."

"Nope." Kelly shook her head and folded her arms over her chest. "You're not. Know why?"

He was grumbling as he headed over to his closet. "Why?"

"…Because while you were showering, I took all your pants except for your jeans and locked them in my trunk."

Ryan spun around. If it had been anyone else, he knew he could have called him or her on bullshitting. But this was Kelly, and that was something totally and completely within her unique realm of crazy.

"You didn't."

She arched a brow at him. "When have I ever lied about getting rid of your clothes?"

His hands curled into fists. "You're – How – Don't you see that that's insane?"

"Oh, so I'm crazy now?"

"Yes!"

"Hey, you're the one about to go on a sales call in a towel," she tossed back, leering pointedly at the towel that was threatening to slip off his narrow hips. "That's not the best argument for sanity, you know."

"Neither is being in a relationship with you," he mumbled, stalking back over toward the bed.

"_What_ did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and arched a brow at him, and she looked so much like Angela at that moment that it honestly terrified him. "That's what I thought."

He half-expected her to toss a _bitch_ at the end of that sentence, but Kelly rarely swore, so she didn't. Ryan sighed and fixed his towel, glowering down at the clothes on his bed.

"I don't see a shirt over here."

"It's hanging behind the door."

Still grumbling, he stripped off his towel and dropped it on the floor, unmindful of his nakedness around her. Kelly waited as he pulled on his boxers, then his pants (fucking khaki, he looked like a goddamn idiot…), then his socks, and finally his undershirt.

"Where is it?"

"Right here." She pulled it out from behind the door and handed it to him, and Ryan could only stare.

"…That's not my shirt."

"Yes, it is," she insisted, pushing it toward him. "Just put it on."

"No, I mean…" He pointed to the logo on the breast pocket. "That's not my shirt. That's – that's an expensive shirt."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Just because you're too cheap to spend $50 on a dress shirt does not make it an expensive shirt. I could show you shirts that cost $700."

The staggering figure made him wheeze for a second, and Kelly seized the opportunity to shove the hanger into his hand. When he held on to it, making no move to take it off, she huffed and took it back. The hanger (it was a nice one – wooden with some kind of gold emblem drawn on it) fell to the floor and the next thing Ryan knew, his arm was being shoved into the sleeve.

"Oof. Ow. Hey, I'm attached to that arm."

"Baby," was all she said, but he could hear the laughter in her voice as she made him slide his other arm into it. "There. Turn around."

He was still too preoccupied with the shirt to care as she spun him around and proceeded to button him up, pausing halfway up to tuck the ends into his unbuttoned and unzipped pants. "When did you get this?"

"Last night, after work."

"Is that why you didn't want me to come over?" He tried to catch her gaze, but she was back to her buttoning task and didn't look up at him. "You said you had plans and-"

"Duh, plans to go shopping. You could have offered to come along if you wanted."

"I thought you were shopping for yourself," he admitted lamely. "And, you know…"

"And you never have the patience to stand around while I look at pretty things," she finished lightly, stopping to smooth the fine fabric over his chest, brushing away real and imaginary wrinkles alike.

"Kelly, last time you made me hold your purse."

"Hello, courtesy, ever heard of it?"

"For _four hours_."

The self-loathing in his voice made her giggle. "At least it matched your shirt that night."

"Kelly…"

"Oh, get over it, Ryan, it was just a purse."

"Two of my friends from business school were there and they _saw us_. Do you have any idea how…_horrifying_ it is for a guy to be caught holding his girlfriend's purse in front of another guy he knows?"

Her eyes sparkled, and Ryan wouldn't realize until later – much later – that it was because it was the first time he'd used that word since they broke up. Kelly didn't say anything, didn't answer his question, and Ryan's lips pinched downward into an irritated frown that didn't last very long because she was running her fingers over his shoulders, down his arms, again across the planes of his chest, making sure the shirt fit him just right.

Kelly tilted her head to the side, satisfied with her work. "It looks good on you. I like that it's an ivory color, it's so much softer and just looks shinier, don't you think? Like how those filters Diane Sawyer uses on her show make everything look soft and shiny. She probably does that because she's not as young as she was once."

Ryan blinked. "Kelly…this shirt is white."

She stared up at him, lips parted, and then burst out laughing as if it was the funniest thing he ever said. And Ryan realized belatedly that perhaps it was, and the joke was on him.

"Oh, Ryan, you're so cute sometimes."

"Sometimes?" he heard himself ask her teasingly. She grinned back and walked over to his desk where she'd left the paper bag from Nordstrom's. God, the only time he shopped there was when his mother wanted to buy him a sweater (cashmere) or a scarf and gloves set (Burberry, always, because it was the brand his father wore). "What's that?"

"A tie, duh."

Ryan blinked and stared at the bold diagonal stripes. "…That's not like any of the ties I wear."

"Obviously, it's cooler."

"What's wrong with my ties?" he demanded to know, planting his hands on his hips as she got rid of the plastic clip that held the ends together. "You like my ties."

"I only told you that when we were dating the first time," Kelly scoffed. "Seriously? I thought they were soooo boring."

His lower lip stuck out and Ryan didn't even realize it. "You said they matched my eyes," he said, feeling oddly betrayed. Normally, _he_ was the one telling her little white lies about how she looked to keep her happy.

"Don't pout," she told him gently, looping the tie around his neck and sliding it under his collar. "It makes you look four years old."

"Kelly, I'm not wearing this."

"Oh, yes, you are."

"No, I'm not." He actually had to struggle against her hold. "Kelly, it's brown. And it has stripes. And it's _thin_."

"It's not brown," she cried as if he'd insulted her mother. "It's tan, chocolate, beige, and cream. And it has solid stripes and thin lines. And it's not thin, it's skinny. Not like those cheesy narrow-side-wide-side ties you wear. Welcome to OldManville, population: Ryan Howard."

"I'm not wearing it."

"Oh, yes, absolutely, you are."

"You spend too much time with Jim."

"I _like_ Jim. He's nice to me."

"He's a smug douche bag."

"Funny, that's what people say about you," she smiled, unable to help herself. He rolled his eyes at her, but she could see him fighting a smirk. "Now hold still."

Somehow, while they were arguing, she was putting on his tie and Ryan was amazed that he hadn't noticed, that she was just _that_ good at distracting him while she got him to do what she wanted. "What are you – Kelly, I don't wear my ties like that. I do the Windsor thing with the over-under-across-"

She sighed patiently, as if dealing with a small child. It was amazing how they both dealt with each other like that, each one assuming the other was the infantile buffoon.

"Ryan, you can't tie a tie like this in a Windsor knot, or even a half Windsor. See the fabric? Feel it." She made him pinch the fabric between his fingers. "It's thicker fabric than the ones you have. For thicker fabrics, you have to do the Four in Hand knot, Ryan, everyone knows that."

"Clearly," he deadpanned, but it was lost on her. "Ow. What are you doing? That looks dumb. See, it's all crooked."

"It's not crooked. The Four in Hand is supposed to be a little asymmetrical and a little more narrow than normal knots, which works perfectly for thicker fabrics and skinny ties. There. Look at how nice you look. Like you stepped out of the pages of GQ."

"Kelly, I don't want to look like I stepped off the pages of GQ." He knew he was whining but he couldn't help it. "I just wanted to go to work today in the clothes I always wear, maybe with a brighter tie than usual, and go on my sales call and try to close. And now you've got me wearing – wearing–"

He gestured helplessly down at his outfit. "Khaki pants with my blue suit jacket and this tie that, honestly, I don't even know _what's_ going on with it and I have one of your hair clips on my lapel and – Oh my God. What are those?"

"Shoes, duh."

He was starting to hate that word even more than he usually did.

"Kelly, those are not shoes."

"Then what are they, kittens? You're so weird, Ryan."

"They look…really expensive."

"They are, but I bought them at an outlet for, like, a ton percent off. God, Ryan, you can be so cheap sometimes."

Ryan closed his eyes and counted to three. "Those don't look like any of the shoes I own."

"That's because you own ugly shoes. Except your Vans. Those are sooooooo hot, Ryan, you have no idea. If you ever wanted to mess around while you were wearing them, I'd totally let you keep them on."

"Kelly, that's not what I'm – wait, really?"

"Oh, and I love your Footjoys, too. They're so preppy and I'm usually not into that, but they're just really cool."

"I _told_ you, we don't call them Footjoys-"

"Why, because it's not macho enough? You're such a fashion snob, Ryan Howard. I don't even know _why,_ because you have, like, no fashion sense."

"I have a fashion sense," he defended himself weakly.

"Yeah, jeans and hoodies and your precious long-sleeve tees," she snorted. "There's more out there, Ryan. Like these amazing shoes. They're leather and everything, and sooooo stylish. But classic, too!"

"Those are not shoes. They're boots."

"Booties, technically."

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, my God…"

"But wait, that's probably not macho enough." She pursed her lips together, feigning thoughtfulness. "Okay, we'll call them boots. Just for your sake."

"Kelly…"

"You're wearing these, Ryan Bailey Howard. You're wearing these or I am _ending_ you."

He'd never heard that one before. "You're ending me? You're a five-foot-two Indian girl, you can't end me."

"I fight dirty," Kelly sniffed, "and so what if I'm short? You're five-foot-"

Ryan didn't let her finish that statement. "Kelly, fine. I'll wear the pants. I'll wear the tie. I'll wear your hair clip. But I'm not wearing those shoes! They have a silver thing on the back!"

"It's a horsebit!"

"That doesn't make it okay!"

She advanced on him, all five-feet-and-two-inches of tiny-Indian-girl fury, and Ryan actually gulped. Kelly used to threaten him before, but she'd always resort to whining and tears to get what she wanted. Now – well, he didn't quite know what to expect. He felt like a wuss for actually being afraid for her for a second, but – seriously, what the hell? She was looking at him like she was going to splice his jugular with that stupid lapel pin.

"Ryan."

He gulped when she grabbed his lapels tightly, using them to haul him just a little closer to her under the guise of smoothing them out. "…Yeah?"

"You are going to wear those shoes."

Her voice was tight and low and firm, leaving no room for argument, and he probably would have agreed right then and there even if she hadn't continued.

"And then tonight, I'll do that thing with the ice cubes that you like."

He felt his blood hum at the mere mention of that trick she'd shown him a week ago, and Kelly smirked when he shuddered. "…As soon as we get home."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Yay!" She clapped her hands and watched him slip on the boots, then surveyed him proudly. "Oh, you look so cute. Come on, let's go to Panera for breakfast, I want to show you off."

Ryan sighed and grabbed his wallet and keys as she pushed him out the door, making sure along the way that he had enough cash to pay for hers since she probably blew through half a paycheck to get him all this stuff. Kelly was so generous with her money, especially when it came to him, and sometimes he wished he wasn't hardwired to be such a tightwad. That was the part of his father that he took after.

She was bouncing up and down at his side as he locked his door, and Ryan had barely turned before he felt her arms sliding around his waist, felt her nose bump against his.

"Oh, Ryan, this was so much fun." Kelly rose on her toes to kiss him quickly. "You should totally let me dress you _every_ morning. You'd look _so _adorable."

He sighed heavily and ran his hand through her hair, slowly so as to enjoy the feeling of dark silk between his fingers. "…One day at a time, Kel."

"Oh, yeah, right. Totally."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Morning, Kelly. Ryan." Pam smiled at them as they walked into the office, and she looked at home behind the reception desk for the first time after three months. Her gaze lingered on Ryan and she pressed her lips together, as if hiding a snider smile, and he knew that she'd picked up the expression from Jim. "You look…different."

He grumbled something under his breath and tossed his overcoat onto the rack as Kelly grinned. "He looks _great_. He's totally going to let me dress him from now on."

Ryan didn't bother to correct her. Pam was practically beaming as she tried to stifle her laughter, and he absently mused that she and Jim were made for each other. Their kids would probably make goofy expressions at non-existent cameras, too.

"Hey." Jim sidled up next to Kelly and took a few jellybeans from the dispenser. He looked over at Ryan and smirked, and Ryan wanted to smack that look off his face. Frigging douche. "You look cute today."

"You are such a girl," Dwight scoffed at the lanky salesman, coming up to get his copies from Pam. He gave Ryan the once-over and frowned. "And you are too shiny for the workplace, temp. Please remove your pin and the embellishments from your shoes and hand them to Pam for safe-keeping. You'll get them back at the end of the workday."

"Dude! Sweet 'fit!" Andy was grinning at him, even held his fist out for a pound, and Ryan just glared. "I'm so glad the whole khaki-pants-with-blue-blazer look is catching on. I totally invented it, you know."

Ryan shot a desperate look at Kelly, who offered him a sheepish smile, and was about to head to his temporary desk back in the annex when Michael walked into the office.

"Morning, everyone." He looked tired and not nearly as happy as they thought he'd be with his real receptionist back at work. "Jimmy Bean, good to see you. Pamela, very good to have you back. _You'll be baaaahck. And you aaaaah baaaaahck._"

Even his Arnold Schwarzenegger impression lacked his usual enthusiasm.

"It's good to see you, too, Michael," Pam smiled after an awkward pause. "You have a few messages-"

"Errr…" He made a strange face as he looked at the post-its. "Pam, do you think from now on you could maybe stick all the post-it messages to the door of my office so that I see them first thing in the morning? That was how Ryan did it. Thanks. Ryan."

Michael gave him the once-over, their usual greeting, and didn't say anything about his clothes. If anything, his boss looked strangely sad. "I need to see you in my office in about five minutes, please."

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah, fine."

"Good, good." Michael turned and disappeared into his office, and Ryan headed to the annex to set his stuff down. Kelly followed him and playfully traced her finger over the line of his shoulders as she took her seat behind him.

"Don't listen to those guys. You look amazing. And you're going to kill that sale today, I just know it."

Ryan replied with a sigh and killed a few minutes organizing his things on the desk he knew he might very well not even have at the end of the day. He glanced at the clock on the lower right corner of his monitor and got up, getting up and wearily shuffling into the main office to meet with his boss.

"Michael?"

"Ryan." He waved him in, and Ryan cringed when he saw that the camera was already there. Amazingly, though, Michael didn't seem all that pleased about it either. "Come on in. Sorry about…"

He tipped his head toward Bill the Camera Guy, who waved awkwardly and repositioned the lens, and Ryan nodded.

"Don't worry about it." He hiked up his pants at the knees a little and took his seat across from his boss.

Michael awkwardly cleared his throat and shuffled some of his papers around, not meeting Ryan's equally uncomfortable gaze. "So. Today's the day…"

Ryan nodded slowly, trying not to glance at the camera. "Yup."

"Pam's back from New York, back behind reception," he continued, largely for the camera's benefit. "Which means that everyone's favorite administrative assistant is now back to being everyone's favorite temp."

Ryan didn't think he was anyone's favorite anymore, not in this office. Well, except Michael's. And Kelly's. But that wasn't saying a whole lot. Both of them had already proved that, for whatever reason, they'd love him no matter what he did. Whereas with Kelly it was comforting, with Michael it was just plain creepy.

Michael cleared his throat, his mood changing and his expression becoming grave. "I called in a favor with David Wallace and got him to agree that I could promote you to a junior sales associate again if you closed a sale. You cold-called all last week and got a few leads, and today's your sales call."

Ryan nodded, already knowing this, and Michael finally lifted his gaze to his.

"If you close the sale and have the contracts on my desk by five o'clock, you're promoted and you get to stay. If you cannot do that…you will no longer be everyone's favorite temp. Because you will no longer be a temp."

"Yeah…"

"Because you will be fired."

"I got that, Michael."

"Fired Guy." Michael chuckled despite himself, then quickly put on his poker face. "I – sorry. That was rude. You're not Fired Guy. Not yet."

Ryan drummed his fingers on the armrest. "Was there anything else, or…"

"No, nothing else," his boss replied. "Just wanted to check in. Do a little checkaroonie."

"Great." He rose from his seat and adjusted his ridiculous tie. "Thanks. I'll see you after and let you know how it went."

"Ryan." Michael stood from his seat and held out his hand. "Best of luck. I know you can do it, I've seen the work you put into this company when you were here and when you were at corporate. You can do this. You've got a lot of people that believe in you."

More like two.

"And remember, just play to your strengths. And you, my friend, have many."

He clasped his hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you, Michael."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmy-"

Ryan shot her a look over his shoulder as he pulled on his heavy overcoat. "Kelly, please."

She snapped her mouth shut but continued to drum her fingers excitedly against the counter. Pam, too, was watching him with considerable interest.

Ryan glanced at the clock, and then at Michael's door. God, he hoped that he wouldn't come out and make some grand speech about the young hero's journey or whatever tripe nonsense popped into his head.

Besides, if he had to admit it, what Michael had said earlier was good enough. It was short, simple, and he could tell it was heartfelt. Michael wanted him to succeed, and that felt almost nice to know. Still, this was on him now. No amount of Kelly OMG-ing and Michael pulling for him would close the sale.

And Ryan Howard _had_ to close this sale.

He had to stay on at Dunder Mifflin. He had to keep this job. He had to earn his stupid desk in the annex two inches away from Kelly's. He had to get back to the top, too, there was always that, but first things first. He had to close this sale.

God, he didn't even know what he was going to do if he didn't. No, that wasn't true. He knew what he was going to do, had planned it out last week. He'd just have someone he knew buy a shitload of paper and then reimburse them, and then forge the contracts to make it look like the paper had really been purchased by Star Gallery on Lackawanna Avenue at the Steamtown Mall.

Yup. That was what he was going to do. And he didn't even feel bad about it. You did what you had to do.

"I'll see you later."

"Good luck!" Kelly beamed, throwing her arms around him and covering him with kisses. "I know you can do it."

He grimaced at that, and then grimaced again when he looked down at his pants. Quickly, he kissed her goodbye and started to turn around when he heard her voice.

"And no, Ryan, you can't pull your matching pants out of my trunk and change in the parking lot because, guess what? I jammed the lock on my trunk so even _I_ can't get in there."

His jaw dropped and he turned around, finding that Jim and Pam were staring at his psycho girlfriend, too. "So my pants are…stuck in there."

Kelly nodded firmly. "Yup."

"All of them."

"Uh-huh."

Ryan threw his hands up in the air, barely noticing that Jim and Pam were now looking at each other and snickering. "So what am I supposed to wear tomorrow?"

Kelly just smiled. "Oh, Ryan, we'll worry about that _tomorrow_, duh."

He gaped at her as the door to Michael's office opened and his boss came out.

"Wait, what's wrong with your pants, Ryan?"

He turned toward Michael, who was now staring at his pants, and hurriedly turned for the door, eager to put as much space between him and these crazy people as possible.

"Oh, God."

~*~*~*~*~*~

_Three hours later…_

He walked into the office to find Kelly at reception, talking animatedly with Pam who seemed to be listening pretty closely.

"Honestly, if Jim's brothers are like that, then they're dumb," Kelly was saying. "I mean, ha ha, you're going to be poor. What kind of joke is that? It's not even true, I know tons of people who work in art and graphic design and do lots of different things with it and make good money."

"Yeah, right?" Pam agreed. "Especially these days. I can do a lot with an art degree. Jim was even saying how he thinks he might be able to talk to David Wallace and see if there's an opening in marketing down at corporate, if they need a design position filled."

"Totally. Screw his brothers, they're so lame. Oh, and here's what you do. Next time you're all together for, like, some family dinner or over the holidays or something, you and Jim totally have to act like they're super old. Make all these references to, like, cool new things and then get down on them for not having any idea what you're talking about."

"And we could make up some stuff," the receptionist was giggling. "I'll be like, _oh, you've never heard of…Frolf…er…ton…sting? It's the new thing, all the kids are doing it. _Oh, maybe I can get their kids in on it!"

"Yeah, definitely."

Ryan sucked in a breath as he watched them laugh, squared his shoulders, and marched forward. Kelly and Pam noticed him a little late, only when he stopped two feet away from Kelly, and they both stared up at him.

He cleared his throat and pulled a bouquet of pink tulips out from behind his back, presenting it to Kelly. He expected her to squeal and shout and jump up and down and then practically maul him in front of everyone, and Ryan was genuinely surprised when she just stared at them. Slowly, the corner of her mouth curved up and her glittering eyes met his.

"You closed the sale."

Ryan didn't even realize he was grinning. "I closed the sale."

"Ohmigosh, I _knew_ you would! Didn't I tell you that you would?" She was clapping and jumping up and down, and instead of taking the flowers from him, Kelly threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. The news was starting to spread and their coworkers were beginning to gather.

"That's really great, Ryan," Pam grinned, looking genuinely happy for him. "Congratulations."

"Good job," Jim said, making his way over to them. He held out his hand, which Ryan shook briefly. "That's great, your first sale."

Ah, he just wouldn't be Jim if there wasn't a little dig in there.

"The kid made a sale?" From his desk, Creed was regarding them suspiciously. "I thought he was in jail this whole time."

Angela walked over to reception to hand Pam a file, and deigned to sniff in his direction. "Congratulations on your sale, Ryan. That's quite an accomplishment given your previous record."

He knew enough to simply smile tightly back at her. "Thanks."

The accountant's mouth pinched into a frown as she eyed Kelly, who was still holding him close, and she turned on her heel and returned back to her seat, clearly not wanting to waste another second on him.

Dwight put down his phone and called out to him. "Temp. You made a sale?"

He nodded. "I did."

"How much did you sell?"

"Fifty reams."

He scoffed. "Please. I can sell that much in my sleep. While I'm…napping. Not a full night's sleep. More like dozing. Closing my eyes."

Jim turned to him. "How many reams have you sold today, Dwight?"

The salesman was instantly up in arms. "I don't have to tell you that, you don't get to know that."

Jim shot Pam a look, making her smile, and walked over to the desk. "Actually, as your immediate superior, I have every right to know your sales tally for the day. I want the amount written in crayon a piece of non-Dunder Mifflin paper, put in a non-Dunder Mifflin envelope, and on my desk in five minutes."

Dwight stared up at him, his expression equal parts furious and terrified, and shot out of his seat and toward the door as if his pants were on fire, presumably to track down paper products in this building that weren't any of the Dunder Mifflin brands. Since they catered to the whole building…Ryan would figure that Dwight wouldn't have much luck with that.

Kevin had wandered over from Accounting and was now holding out his fist for a pound. "You sold some paper? Nice job…Hired Guy."

Ryan obliged and bumped his knuckles against Kevin's. "Thanks, Kev."

He nodded and turned away, and Ryan shook his head before looking down at Kelly, who had finally taken the flowers and was happily admiring them.

"And…"

She blinked up at him. "What?"

"…Clive Mitchell, the guy who runs the place…he really liked my clothes."

Kelly batted her lashes innocently. "Really?"

He nodded. "Said he loved the tie, loved the brand of the shirt I was wearing, called my boots 'fun' and thought that the navy blazer with the dark khaki pants was inventive. Which makes me think…"

His grip on her hips tightened as he leaned into her, and Kelly giggled. "…that you knew more than you let me think when you picked this stuff out."

Caught, she rolled her eyes playfully. "Fine, fine. I totally knew who Clive was when you said that you had a lead with the gallery place at the mall. He has this fashion blog on MySpace and he posts pictures of all the things he likes, and talks about the new looks each season and all that stuff, and he totally friended my fashion blog and said he thought my taste was awesome."

This was news to him. "You have a fashion blog?"

"Yeah, Ryan, totally, how do you not know that? Have we been apart that long?" She shook her head in wonder. "I have a MySpace fashion blog where I put pictures of all the things I bought that I love. You know, like, coats and scarves and lotions and makeup…Ooh! I found this really awesome mascara, Ryan, oh, my God, I'm serious-"

"Kelly – about Clive?"

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry." She tucked her hair behind her ear, still maintaining a death grip on the flowers. And he figured she was entitled to – that was the first bouquet he'd ever gotten her without her having to brow-beat him into it.

"So he friended my blog and would always leave comments when I bought new things, like, oh, that's so cool, or, oh, I love the color and the cut, or, oh, those shoes are so fierce, stuff like that. So I checked out his stuff, and we kind of started talking, but he doesn't know who I really am because I don't use my real name online anymore after all those sex predators on Dunder Mifflin Infinity."

Ryan cringed at the reminder of his ill-fated website.

"So I know that he's, like, totally into fashion and you're totally…not, so I knew that if I dressed you right, he'd totally buy paper from you."

She was smiling up at him, so pleased and vindicated in her unshakable faith in him, and Ryan didn't even realize that he was gazing down at her adoringly (oh, dear God, she really did own his ass) until she shot him a weird look.

"Ryan? Hello? You okay?"

"Huh?" He quickly snapped himself out of it – whatever _it_ was. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm better than fine."

"You're a junior sales associate," she filled in with a grin.

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah."

Kelly rose on her toes to kiss his cheek as Pam checked the fax machine, finding the contracts from his sale and putting them together for Michael. "So I should _totally_ get to dress you every day from now on, right?"

He knew Jim and Kevin were snickering at him behind his back, but he didn't even care. "…How about only on my sales calls?"

"Oh, my God, yay! When's your next one?"

"Tuesday."

"What are you doing? Where is it? Who is it with?"

He tossed his coat onto the rack and slipped his arm around her waist again as they headed back to the annex. "I'm golfing with the clerk from the municipal center."

"Oh, my God, that means you get to wear-"

"Kelly-"

"-your Footjoys!"

Jim and Kevin made loud snuffling sounds, unable to hold their laughter in, and Kelly looked over her shoulder and frowned.

"I mean, golf shoes."

He glared at his two idiot coworkers as they stepped into the kitchen. "…Yeah."

**The End.**


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